


A First Time for Everything

by lionfish13



Category: Junjou Romantica
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Homosexuality, Humor, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 12:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionfish13/pseuds/lionfish13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a first time for everything, no matter who you are or how old. This is a 6 chapter fic, 1 chapter per character from all 3 couples, JR, JE & JT. Expect romance, humour, general fluff and silliness!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Akihiko

Akihiko could hardly take his eyes off his Misaki. The talented boy had once again whipped up a culinary delight – this time literally, for on the dining table in front of them was a towering, three-tiered masterpiece of sponge, jam and lightly whipped cream. In fact, there was so much cream, that the weight of it all was slowly forcing the white goo to slide over the edge of the cake to pool onto the plate. On top of this mound was a flickering birthday candle.

Even though Akihiko didn’t really like sweet things, he had agreed to a small sliver of cake as Misaki had made it specially for Takahiro’s birthday and Akihiko couldn’t bring himself to make a fuss just about eating a bit of cake in front of his lover and best friend.

But now Misaki was cutting them each a piece and he looked so delicious, that Akihiko felt a different kind of hunger starting to swirl in the base of his stomach. To mark the special occasion, Misaki had exchanged his usual teen outfit of baggy t-shirt and shorts for a crisp white shirt, top buttons open and revealing a glimpse of soft, smooth skin, and a pair of smart, dark brown trousers that complemented his hair and hugged his legs and pert behind. His Misaki was growing up fast, Akihiko noted, and growing more handsome each day.

He watched as Misaki concentrated hard on cutting a perfect slice without letting it fall into a crumbly, sticky mess. The beautiful smile that crossed his face when the slice successfully landed neatly on the plate caused Akihiko’s heart to thud.

But oh… Misaki had accidentally got some of the cream on his finger. He held it up in front of his face and Akihiko himself almost blushed at the resemblance of the cream to the result of their previous night’s activities… Misaki’s small, pink tongue darted out and swept up the length of his finger, lapping up the cream before it melted and started dripping. Akihiko stifled a groan of longing.

Takahiro was here! He mustn’t forget! He struggled to compose his face, but the desire for his sexy, young lover was straining him to the core.

With difficulty, Akihiko forced his hungry eyes to look anywhere but at Misaki. He spent the rest of the afternoon practically ignoring the boy, keeping his eyes on Takahiro and his family, his legs firmly crossed and a tight smile on his lips.

At long last, the afternoon passed and the guests departed in order to get home in time for little Mahiro’s bedtime. Misaki was clearing away the dishes and putting the wrapped up leftover food into the fridge when long arms snaked around his waist and he felt himself be pulled up against a long, firm torso.

He gave his obligatory yelp and protestations, but Misaki honestly wasn’t surprised. He had actually been impressed with how Usagi had just about managed to keep his hands to himself during the entire visit. If he was completely truthful, he admitted to himself as Usagi’s hands began to roam, he had in fact been looking forward to this moment, generally unaccustomed to being around Usagi for long periods of time without them being able to touch each other.

So in the end, Misaki didn’t struggle or protest too much or for too long. Akihiko felt deliriously happy at Misaki’s response, privately thinking that it might even be a record, that Misaki had never succumbed so quickly.

They soon made it over to the sofa, Akihiko unceremoniously pushing Suzuki-san out of the way in his haste to get atop Misaki. Clothes were strewn aside and hands touched and stroked and caressed, Misaki even daring to touch Usagi in return.

And then he paused. Startled green eyes looked up and met hazy lavender ones.

“Er, Usagi-san…” Misaki started hesistantly.

“Mmm, Misaki…” Akihiko purred in response.

Misaki blushed. “A-am I doing something wrong?”

“Of course not, not at all!” Akihiko blinked in surprise. “Why?”

Misaki’s eyes dropped down for a second at what he held in his hand.

“Well… It’s just that… I _thought_ you were in the mood, but maybe I’ve hurt you, or are you just tired, or..or… Um. Don’t you want to do this, Usagi-san?”

“Misaki, you know I always want to do this with you,” Akihiko replied. Then he followed Misaki’s flickering eyes and glanced down.

His eyes widened in shock. This wasn’t possible. He had desired Misaki all afternoon! He’d been practically desperate for his lover, he’d had to fight away the telltale evidence for hours!

Maybe he’d fought too hard.

For now, in Misaki’s hand, he was softer than Suzuki-san’s stuffing.

“Fuck!” he verbally ejaculated. “What the…?! Misaki, this has never happened before, I swear it!”

“It’s ok, Usagi-san, don’t worry!” Misaki reassured, his hand now moving desperately to ignite his lover.

It didn’t work.

His mouth didn’t work either.

“Um, Usagi-san?” Misaki said in a small voice after thirty minutes of fruitlessly trying everything to get Usagi back into the state he had been in for half the afternoon. “I’m sorry… I don’t think I can do it.”

“It’s not your fault, Misaki,” Akihiko rumbled, looking away, embarrassed. “I’m probably just tired, after all we’ve had a busy day.” He took a deep breath and faced Misaki, a new wicked glint in his eye. “But I can still give my Misaki a good time!”

And he pinned the boy down and proceeded to kiss and touch him until Misaki could barely move.

As night fell and the shadows grew darker and shrouded the room in grey, Usagi gently carried his exhausted lover to their bed. As he pulled the covers up to Misaki’s chin and gazed lovingly down at him, the boy gave a small, satisfied sigh, his eyelids drifting shut. A smile tugged at Akihiko’s mouth.

Suddenly his mouth dropped open in shocked realisation. Thrusting his head under the covers, he stared in wonder. Then, turning to Misaki, he shook the boy’s shoulder gently and practically crowed,

“Misaki! It’s BACK!”

Exhausted green eyes flew open in terror and a howl reverberated around the room.


	2. Miyagi

Miyagi was brushing his teeth, trying to get the flavour of Shinobu’s lovingly made but foul tasting breakfast out of his mouth, when he noticed it in the mirror. Spitting out the toothpaste, he stared at his reflection in horror, so overcome by what he was seeing on top of his head that he didn’t even notice how his toothpaste moustache was now dribbling down his chin.

He gripped the edges of the sink and yelled for his lover.

“Shinobu!”

The much younger man burst into the bathroom with an anxious, stricken face at the sound of his lover’s shouting.

“Miyagi! What’s happened, what’s the matter?” he panted.

Miyagi spun to face him and pointed at his head.

“Look! Look, Shinobu!”

“What?” Shinobu replied, puzzled, as he peered at the top of Miyagi’s head.

“Can’t you see it?! It’s right there, the damned thing is obvious, isn’t it?” Miyagi’s face contorted with anguish and he started flapping his hands in panic.

“ _What_ , Miyagi? I can’t see anything!”

“A _grey hair_ ¸ Shinobu, I’ve got a bloody grey hair! Standing right out against the rest of my nice, normal, _young_ black hair… God, it just proves I’m getting old!” Miyagi wailed.

Shinobu stared at him for a moment, relief washing over him that nothing was really amiss. Then annoyance took over. Frowning at Miyagi’s dramatics, he sighed and leaned forward. Carefully sifting through Miyagi’s pitch black hair, he finally found the one offending grey strand.

“Oh, there. Well, you can hardly see it, it’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is!” Miyagi insisted. “Just wait ‘til Kamijou sees it, he’ll have a field day laughing at my expense.”

“Alright, fine,” Shinobu retorted, and without further ado, promptly yanked the hair out of Miyagi’s head.

“OW!” Miyagi bellowed, clapping a hand to his head. He glared at Shinobu with wide eyes. “Why’d you do that?!”

“You wanted to keep it??”

“Of course not! But you know what they say, pull out a grey hair and all the ones surrounding it will also turn grey… If you keep pulling them out, I’ll soon have a whole head of grey hair!”

“Hmph, urban legend, Miyagi,” Shinobu snorted, and he stalked out of the bathroom, leaving his still sensitive older lover in the bathroom.

When Miyagi had finished examining every inch of himself in the mirror for further signs of age, he finally hopped into the shower. As he was still somewhat distracted by his disturbing discovery, he didn’t pay proper attention as he turned the water on and so received a face full of spray. Unable to see beyond a blur, he groped around for the bottles on the shelf and grabbed the nearest one, squirting the liquid into his hand and rubbing it thoroughly into his hair.

Once he was nice and clean, he stepped out of the shower and quickly towelled himself dry, rubbing his eyes so he could see once more. Yanking on a clean pair of boxers, he left the room and wandered out into the living room to find Shinobu, patting his hair dry as he went.

Shinobu had just finished clearing up the dishes and was moving across to the sofa with a book in his hand. Hearing Miyagi come out, he glanced up.

Now it was his turn to scream.

Shinobu stood, gobsmacked, staring in shock at his lover, his mouth hanging open. Miyagi stopped short, confused at Shinobu’s reaction. His first thought was that it hadn’t been an urban legend after all and his hair had turned grey… Shinobu’s eyes certainly did seem fixed on the top of his head. He grew nervous.

“Shu, what’s the matter?”

“Wh-what have you done?” Shinobu whispered.

“What are you talking about?” Miyagi snapped, now deeply unsettled.

“Your hair… You used my dye, didn’t you? Why would you do that? Miyagi, that looks terrible!”

“Shinobu, what the hell are talking about? I have not _dyed_ my hair – why would I?”

“I dunno, to get rid of the grey? But I pulled it out, you don’t need to worry.”

Miyagi froze, then slowly turned and walked stiffly back to the bathroom to look in the mirror. His heart hammered. What was Shinobu talking about, _dye_? What could possibly have gone wrong now?

Turning apprehensively to the mirror, he once again gave a great shout of horror. Sitting on top of his head were no longer his luscious jet black locks, not even with a strand or two of grey amongst them. Instead, he now sported a head of yellowish brown hair with orangey streaks running through it. Blonde hair dye was dripping off the tips to run down his neck and shoulders, leaving stained trails on his skin.

He started to panic. Finally tearing his eyes away from his reflection, he glanced down at the white towel in his hand, now patchily bleached yellow. A low growl oozed from his lips, steadily growing into a loud, anguished moan.

Shinobu peeked around the corner of the door, biting his lip as he watched his lover anxiously. When Miyagi caught sight of him, he turned to him and barked,

“You dye your hair?”

“Yeah…”

“What the hell for?!”

Shinobu stared at him for a moment as though he were an idiot.

“I’m _Japanese_ , Miyagi – did you really think blonde’s my real hair colour?”

Miyagi’s mouth dropped open.

“But… but it looks so natural! And you’ve never said… I just assumed… Great. I must have picked up your bottle of dye instead of shampoo. It’s just a temporary one, right, how many washes ‘til it’s gone?”

Shinobu suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Er, well, it’s permanent… So it’s going to stay like that ‘til it grows out…”

“What?!” Miyagi yelped. “I can’t have hair like this! Shu, can you just go down the store and get me a black dye, I’ll dye it back to my normal colour.”

“You can’t do that! If you put a new colour right on top of this, it’s bound to go wrong and you’ll look even more ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous, thanks…” Miyagi growled, curling his top lip. Turning back to the mirror, he gazed at himself pitifully. “Look at me! I look like some moronic punk kid! I can’t go into work like this, how am I supposed to teach a class if I look like I’m ten years younger than my students?!”

“Even with hair like that, you still couldn’t pass for someone that young, old man,” Shinobu smirked.

Miyagi shot him a vicious glance.

“Not helping, Shinobu…” he spat.

“Ok, ok! Well, you get in the shower and try and see if you can’t wash as much of the dye out as you can. After all, it doesn’t look like it’s dried or set in completely. Maybe that’ll help a bit. I’ll see if I can find a hairdresser who can dye it professionally for you today.”

The following day, Hiroki’s mouth dropped open as his superior stomped into the room, for once not his usual cheerful self.

“Wow, Miyagi, did you dye your hair?” he asked curiously.

“Bite me, Kamijou!” Miyagi snapped angrily.

Hiroki pursed his lips. He didn’t normally allow people to speak to him like that, and Miyagi was usually a very kind, if somewhat annoying, person.

“No need to be so rude! I was just going to say it actually kinda suits you. I’d never really thought of you as a ginger…”

For once, it was Hiroki’s turn to duck as a hailstorm of books rained down on his head.


	3. Nowaki

Nowaki sighed as yet again he unlocked the door and let himself into the cold, empty apartment. He missed his Hiro-san terribly. The hospital had been giving him more and more night shifts lately, probably because he wasn’t as good as the other staff at saying no whenever they asked if he could cover the unpopular shift. However, as a consequence, he and Hiro-san had barely crossed paths over the last few weeks. Nowaki always returned early in the morning, just as he had today, though never quite early enough to catch his lover before he left for his classes. By the time Hiro-san returned from the university, Nowaki was putting on his shoes, getting ready to dash back to the hospital. It was a tedious and frustrating situation.

Leaving his shoes, bag and coat by the door Nowaki walked straight past the living room and into the bedroom that he shared with his lover. Without even pulling the curtains closed, he dropped face first on to the bed and buried his face in Hiro-san’s pillow, breathing in the familiar scent of his lover.

Sighing again, he gave a low moan and squeezed his arms around the pillow, pressing his eyes shut and pretending the lump in his arms was his fiery lover. Nowaki really did love his job. He got along well with his colleagues and absolutely adored his young charges, but there was no-one that he was as close to, no-one that he could open up to or relax with like his Hiro-san. Pulling up his knees, Nowaki curled into a little ball as he dwelt on the fact that without his Hiro-san around, he was feeling very lonely. He would even take Hiro-san in one of his moods, would happily endure being bombarded by books as Hiro-san yelled at him once again for being a stupid oaf, if it just meant that they could spend more than two minutes in each other’s company again.

He knew his wish wasn’t likely to come true for a while – for the first time in goodness knows when, he actually had the whole of the next weekend off, but typically Hiro-san’s presence was required at a conference in Osaka. Such a rare opportunity, and it was going to come to nothing.

Nowaki wasn’t usually one for melancholia – in fact one of the things he knew Hiro-san secretly liked about him was his constant cheerfulness, his optimism and his ability to see the best in everyone and everything. But today, Nowaki simply couldn’t stop the frown lines that were so familiar on his lover’s face but alien on his; nor could he stop the lines of his mouth curving downwards as he squeezed Pillow-Hiro to his chest.

And that’s how Hiroki found him a couple of hours later, curled up on Hiroki’s side of the bed, holding the pillow so tightly that it threatened to turn flat into a sheet, Nowaki’s face buried in the feathery fabric and mumbling his lover’s name in his sleep.

Hiroki felt his face glow in a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment at Nowaki calling his name. He stood indecisively in the doorway just watching his slumbering partner. He knew the man would be deathly tired after his long night shift, but they had seen each other so little lately that he was almost desperate to wake Nowaki so they could actually spend a bit of time together.

He bit his lip. Waking Nowaki now would be cruel; he was obviously in need of sleep and was clearly in the middle of a dream. No, Hiroki wouldn’t give in to his urges, he would do the man a favour and let him rest. Though it wouldn’t hurt to just quickly brush the hair that was currently tumbling over his forehead out of his eyes…

Creeping forward, Hiroki knelt quietly next to the bed and studied Nowaki’s face for a moment. The man was frowning deeply. Hiroki’s brows furrowed in confusion at the unfamiliar expression on his lover’s face. He wondered what Nowaki was dreaming about – he had been calling his name, but the look on his face said that he wasn’t enjoying the dream.

Reaching out, Hiroki tenderly brushed Nowaki’s fine, black hair off his forehead. Hesitating, he then placed a gentle hand on his lover’s cheek and stroked it, hoping to somehow reassure Nowaki, even as he was in the depths of a dream.

He snatched his hand back, however, flushing at the fear of being caught indulging in wanton affection, as Nowaki stirred. Before Hiroki could jump up and escape, dark blue eyes had snapped open and fixed Hiroki in their gaze.

Nowaki simply stared at him for a moment, confused and wondering if he was still dreaming. Then he sat up abruptly and burst out,

“Hiro-san! What are you doing home already?” His eyes widened. “Oh no! How long have I been asleep? I’m gonna be late for my shift!”

He started to scramble up from the bed, still in his hospital scrubs from the previous night, but stopped short when he saw daylight streaming through the window.

“You’ve got hours left, don’t worry,” Hiroki said. “I just came home early.”

Nowaki turned to look at him. “Why?” he asked a little worriedly. Hiroki leaving work early was practically unheard of.

“I didn’t have many classes and Miyagi said he’d cover the last couple for me so I could come home early. God knows he owes me for about a million classes I’ve covered for him, so I let him. I-I’ve not seen you much lately so thought it’d be nice to take the opportunity…” Hiroki’s voice trailed off at this last admission and he hurriedly looked away from his suddenly beaming boyfriend.

Standing up rather abruptly, he pasted his customary scowl back onto his face and barked,

“Get some proper clothes on, idiot! We might as well do something since you’re awake – how about we try that new café on the corner near the park?”

“Yes, Hiro-san!” Nowaki chirped, suddenly wide awake and full of beans.

Nowaki’s mood had certainly perked up, but Hiroki still detected that something was a bit off with his giant as they settled down in the café. Nowaki was always a bit touchy-feely, even in public to Hiroki’s utmost embarrassment, but today was a little over the top, in his opinion.

It had taken them longer than usual to get to the café, as Nowaki had been unable to restrain himself from pulling the shorter man down a side alley and practically squeezing the breath out of him. Hiroki was quite ashamed of the dirty thoughts that had flashed through his mind as Nowaki pinned him against the brick wall, but the man had simply acted like a giant cat, pressing himself against Hiroki and rubbing their cheeks together, purring like an idiot as their skin made contact.

When Hiroki had finally stopped blustering and mustered up the strength to push the over-sized oaf away, Nowaki had spent the rest of the journey trying to catch Hiroki’s hand. At one point he succeeded and his fingers clamped down around Hiroki’s to try to prevent him from breaking free. Hiroki had rewarded him for that embarrassing display with a sharp biff on the head.

Even now as they sat at the café, Nowaki’s knee was pressed against Hiroki’s and the man was staring at him with such desperate longing in his eyes that Hiroki was starting to become concerned.

Of course, all the attention was flattering. Nowaki had clearly been missing him, and, although he would never admit it out loud, Hiroki couldn’t deny that he had missed the big git too. He had practically beamed at Miyagi when he offered to cover his classes earlier that day, only at the last minute managing to cover up with a gruff, sarcastic comment.

But Nowaki’s behaviour was over the top even for him, and Hiroki started to wonder just how lonely his lover had been.

And so, he decided that he would try to make a bit more effort today for Nowaki. Glancing around the street as they left the café, he determined that it was empty enough to be acceptable catch Nowaki’s ring and pinkie fingers with his index and middle ones –more subtle than holding hands, but a small concession at any rate. It was a bit ridiculous, he thought, how much such a small thing could please the big idiot, seeing Nowaki’s eyes light up at the impromptu sign of affection.

As they slowly made their way home, Hiroki wasn’t paying attention to the roads they were going down, so he groaned inwardly when Nowaki excitedly called his attention to the pet shop on their left, about four streets away from home. Usually he had the presence of mind to remember to steer Nowaki home a different route. The big softie was never able to walk past the pet shop without venturing in.

Hiroki accepted that his lover had a big heart, but it honestly pained him to see Nowaki mooning over the little animals, lamenting the fact that they were homeless, stuck in a small cage in a shop with no-one to love them.

He supposed that in a way it reminded Nowaki of his own childhood in the orphanage.

But it was too late now. Nowaki was squeezing his fingers and pulling him inside and the deed was done. He knew exactly where Nowaki would go, and he was right. Within a few strides, Nowaki had his face pressed up against the small, glass cages, each of which held a small, sad-looking puppy.

Hiroki couldn’t understand why Nowaki always wanted to come here. The puppies were each crammed into a tiny space, with only a little food and drink, nothing to play with and no company as each was isolated in its own glass box. On one occasion when Nowaki had dragged him in here, they had both been saddened to see a puppy that was ill, its mournful face staring despondently at them as it was forced to sit in its own dirt. He’d had a terrible time trying to drag Nowaki away when the man had been so desperate to rescue the poor thing.

Nowaki turned to him now, the same question on his lips that he asked every time they came here.

“Please, Hiro-san, couldn’t we-”

“No.”

“But just one-”

“ _No_ , Nowaki! We go through this every time! We are not getting a puppy!”

Nowaki’s own puppy-dog eyes stared at him unhappily.

“Why not, Hiro-san? I’d look after it, you wouldn’t have to do anything.”

“It’d destroy all my books!”

“No, it wouldn’t, we’d keep it away from them.”

“Nowaki, you know eventually it would get to them. After all, it’s a well-known fact that paper is irresistible to dogs.”

“Er… What?” Nowaki frowned in confusion at Hiro-san’s last comment.

“You know – they love eating paper! Half my students are dog-owners and their bloody pets are always devouring their homework, it’s a nightmare, honestly.”

Nowaki stared at his usually smart lover, unsure whether Hiro-san truly believed what he had just said or was making a rare joke. Judging from Hiro-san’s serious expression, he decided, he honestly seemed to think that the old, ‘my dog ate my homework’ excuse was genuine! Nowaki grinned suddenly, amused that the clever and usually savvy Demon Kamijou had actually been taken for a ride by his students with such a worn-out lie.

“Hiro-san,” he replied, fighting back the laughter, “All your books are in the spare room. We’d just keep the door closed, we can train the puppy not to go there.”

“Nowaki,” Hiroki answered firmly, “One, we’re not even allowed an animal in the flat, two, you and I are busy anyway, and three, I _do not_ and _never will_ want some fur-moulting, flea-ridden, noisy, slobbering animal _anywhere near me or my things_ , do you understand?”

Nowaki looked a little crestfallen. Hiroki felt a stab of guilt, but he shoved it away. He had tried telling Nowaki many times, at least now it seemed to have finally sunk in, though he hadn’t meant to hurt the brat. But he truly meant what he said; he wasn’t the type to have a pet, and he was sure any animal would have a miserable life if it had to live with him. It would be best for it to go to a loving home where its owners would have time to care for it properly.

Still, Hiroki mentally kicked himself for not keeping Nowaki away from the pet shop in time. The man was subdued for the rest of the day, and their first day together in weeks hadn’t turned out quite how Hiroki had hoped it would.

Later that afternoon, Nowaki disappeared into the bathroom to have a shower and start to get ready for his next shift. Hiroki sighed and tapped his fingers on the armrest of the sofa where he and Nowaki had been silently watching television. He always hated seeing his lover like this. He was supposed to be the grumpy, moody one, not Nowaki! Nowaki was his sunshine; it upset him to see his lover’s sunny personality clouded over.

An idea suddenly came to him. Jumping up, he grabbed his keys and jacket, checked that his wallet was in his jacket pocket and ran out the door.

Nowaki stood in the shower for a while after he had finished scrubbing his body. He felt bad for feeling low when this should have been a wonderful day, a surprising chance to see his lover. But it had been too short, and the episode at the pet shop had upset him more than he had expected.

Hiro-san was right, it would be stupid getting a puppy now, though he had always held onto the hope that one day, maybe when they were in a bigger place and had less hectic schedules, they might get a little dog or two. But Hiro-san had categorically squashed that hope. And Nowaki was now realising that one of the reasons he wanted a pet was to keep the loneliness that he felt when Hiro-san wasn’t around at bay.

Now, with their remaining time together on this day coming to an end and unsure when they would again have much time for each other, Nowaki was feeling overwhelmed with loneliness as he had that morning. He was a loving and social person, he needed an outlet, someone or something to shower with affection!

Sighing, he finally switched off the water and stepped out of the shower. Grabbing a towel, he patted himself dry and, wrapping the towel around his waist, opened the door and stepped out into the hall, just in time to see Hiro-san return.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked in surprise. He hadn’t heard the older man leave.

“I got you something. Hope it’ll cheer you up a bit…” Hiroki explained stiffly, a light flush decorating his cheeks.

Nowaki felt his heart lift slightly. Hiro-san had got him something? He wondered what it was – it certainly was rare for the older man to indulge him with gifts.

Hiroki held out a box.

“What is it?” Nowaki asked, taking it from him.

“It’s not a dog, but you wanted a pet, so I got you one. So you can stop complaining!” Hiroki growled.

Nowaki looked up in confusion.

“A pet?” he repeated. Hiro-san must be more over-worked than usual if he thought anything that came in a box could be a pet.

“Yeah. Just look at it, idiot!” Hiroki snapped.

Nowaki peered at the box. It had an image of some weird, beige-coloured, multi-limbed aliens on the front. Looking doubtful, he glanced back up at Hiro-san.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” he asked.

Hiroki rolled his eyes. “You have to water them.”

“Ohh, so they’re some weird kind of flower?” Nowaki questioned.

“Ugh, idiot. They’re sea monkeys!”

Sea monkeys. Nowaki’s eyes widened as it finally clicked in his mind what Hiroki had given him. Little pets of his own that would require his attention and care, but didn’t slobber, didn’t shed fur and most certainly didn’t eat books.

A broad grin spread across his face and he grabbed his scowling Hiro-san into a tight hug.

“Thank you, Hiro-san!” he sang.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hiroki mumbled into Nowaki’s broad chest.

Okay, well, it was no dog – but sea monkeys were cute in their own very _weird_ way… And it was an acceptable compromise. And at least while Hiro-san was away, Nowaki wouldn’t be entirely alone, there would be something at home that depended on him for love. The thought brought some warmth to his heart.

“Hiro-san…” he breathed, “I’ll name one of them after you!”

“Idiot!” Hiroki yelled, breaking free from his insanely-grinning lover’s tight grasp and bopping him hard over his head.


	4. Misaki

“Go on, Misaki, you have to, it’s for charity,” Sumi urged.

He and Misaki were currently standing at the end of the long, crowded corridor leading up to Mitsuhashi University’s literature block. They had been reluctantly making their way to Demon Kamijou’s dreaded lecture when they had stumbled upon a huge queue blocking the corridor and culminating in a small stall, behind which stood a pretty girl in a denim mini skirt and red satin top with a deep V neck.

The queue, Misaki noticed after a moment, was mostly composed of boys, with a few bold girls mixed in, and the cheering, catcalling and whistling bursting from the boys’ lips rained like a cacophony on his ears.

Curious as to what was going on, Sumi had asked the boy at the end of the queue who excitedly told him that the gorgeous girl at the front was raising money for a charity that supported people with sexually transmitted diseases, and she had decided to do this by holding a Kiss-a-thon. Anyone could have a kiss for a mere five hundred yen.

Despite Sumi’s earlier clear attraction to Usami Akihiko, he eagerly jumped to the back of the queue, confusing Misaki but still lifting his heart at the suggestion that Sumi might be a little less intent on being with Misaki’s own boyfriend. (The memory of the night when he had stumbled on Sumi leaning over Usagi-san, his hand slipping under his shirt, still tormented Misaki whenever he let himself dwell on it.)

Now, Sumi was beckoning to him and urging him to also join the queue.

“Come on, Misaki! It’s only five hundred yen, hardly going to break the bank.”

“Er… I don’t know, Senpai… I don’t think I want to do it.” Misaki couldn’t help but hesitate at the thought of what Usagi-san would say if he found out.

“It’s not like you have to stick your tongue down her throat, let alone shag her!” Sumi laughed, goading him. “Why are you being such a stick in the mud? It’s for a good cause, it’s your duty to help out, Misaki. Or what – you never kissed a girl before?”

“Y-yeah, of course I have! Lots in fact!” Misaki blurted, feeling himself blush at the lie that tumbled instantly off his tongue in defence of his masculinity.

“Well, then it’s not a problem, is it?” Sumi countered.

“W-well, no… I guess… But…”

“But what?”

“What about…” Misaki started in a tiny voice, unable to finish. Sumi seemed to understand what he was getting at, however, and a small smile crept onto his face.

“What about Usami-sensei, you mean?” he finished for him, amused at the alarmed expression on Misaki’s face. “I’m sure your _boyfriend_ won’t mind one little kiss, would he, not when it’s for charity. Besides, she’s kissing plenty of people other than you, so it’s not like she’s singling you out as special – there’s really nothing at all about this that should threaten the great Usami-sensei!”

Misaki found himself without an argument to that and so, reminding himself again in his head that he was doing this for charity, he nervously stepped up behind Sumi in the queue.

Eventually it was his turn. Stepping up to the stall, he stared anxiously across at the girl who was about to become his first ever kiss – with a female, that is.

“Five hundred yen,” she chirped, holding her hand out.

Misaki shakily placed the money into her cool hand, his own feeling slightly clammy. He wiped his palms against his shorts surreptitiously and glanced back up at her. The girl’s red lips already looked somewhat chapped and swollen and he wondered just how many guys she had already kissed. The thought both soothed and sickened him. At least it was as Sumi had said – he was but one of many, the kiss was nothing special, just a charitable gesture.

The girl was now leaning forward, watching him expectantly. Misaki stood dumb for a moment, before suddenly realising that she was waiting for him to kiss her. He was so used to Usagi-san making the first move that he didn’t know what to do!

Grumbling noises started behind him, and one of the boys in the queue called out,

“Come on, mate, whatcha waiting for? Not a _homo_ , are ya?!” he snickered.

Misaki gulped. Then, taking a deep breath, he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward, pressing his lips against the girl’s. He just managed to hold it for a few seconds before pulling away, although not before the girl teasingly swept his bottom lip with her moist tongue. Giving a small yelp, Misaki jerked backwards. His face now bright red, he grabbed Sumi’s arm and ran away from the corridor, dragging his laughing friend behind him.

Later that evening, Usagi wrapped his arms around Misaki as he prepared their dinner. Holding the struggling boy tightly in his arms, he asked worriedly,

“Misaki, are you alright? You’ve been awfully quiet since you got back from class. Nobody’s done anything to hurt you, have they?”

Misaki stilled, then finally sagged back against Usagi-san’s chest. His hair flopped in his face as he fixed his eyes on the floor, still guilt-ridden for kissing a girl behind his lover’s back.

“No,” he whispered, “No-one’s done anything to hurt me. It’s me who’s the problem, Usagi-san. I’m so sorry.”

Usagi frowned. “What are you talking about, Misaki?” he prodded, his voice filled with consternation.

Misaki turned and pressed his face into Usagi’s chest. In a muffled voice, he admitted,

“I kissed a girl at university today.” He paused. Usagi-san made no reply, too shocked into silence, although his grip on Misaki’s arms tightened almost painfully. “I-it wasn’t because I wanted to, I swear! It was for charity… I felt like I didn’t have any choice, everyone was doing it, people were already starting to think I was weird and calling me a- a homo…” Misaki’s voice trailed off.

Usagi stood stiffly, feeling his thumping heart start to calm down as Misaki explained what had happened. He still felt confused though.

“Everyone was kissing this one girl? For charity?”

“Yeah… She was doing a Kiss-a-thon,” Misaki elaborated.

“I see… So it definitely wasn’t just the two of you kissing? And you didn’t want to?”

“No!”

“And… did you like it?”

“Of course not!” Misaki burst out. “It actually felt dirty, knowing all those guys had been there right before me, her lips all swollen up like that!”

“All right, all right!” Usagi interrupted, not desiring to hear all the sordid details. “But really, Misaki, you shouldn’t do these things if you don’t want to, no matter what other people say, especially if it makes you feel uncomfortable. You mustn’t give in to peer pressure! Who cares what the other kids think? No-one should ever get to touch my Misaki except me! There are lots of other ways to give to charity. Speaking of which, what charity was she raising money for?”

“One that helps people coping with sexually transmitted diseases…”

“Huh?! Isn’t raising money for such a charity by kissing hundreds of people rather an unusual method?”

Misaki was still looking so glum, staring at the floor, his shoulders hunched. Usagi sighed. He reached out to lift the boy’s chin, saying,

“Misaki, it’s ok. Really, don’t be sad. You did it because you’re Misaki and you always do what you can to help others. But please don’t do it again – I won’t stand for someone else to tou-"

Usagi-san suddenly jumped back in horror, his sentence cut short. Wide purple eyes were fixed on Misaki’s mouth, as Usagi-san clutched the hand that had reached for the boy’s chin to his chest.

“Usagi-san? What is it?!” Misaki asked in alarm.

“I think that girl’s kissed a few too many people,” he choked.

“Why?” Misaki started to panic. Noticing that Usagi-san was still staring at his mouth, he passed a hand over his lips. On his bottom lip was a reddened, swollen lump. “Argh!” he yelled, “What the hell’s that?!”

“Cold sore,” Usagi-san smirked. “Told you – you shouldn’t go around kissing girls, you should just stick to me.”

And ignoring the cold sore, he swooped down and reclaimed Misaki’s lips for his own, removing all trace of that dastardly girl.


	5. Shinobu

Shinobu was in a state of utter shock. He stared at the paper in his hand in bewilderment, too stunned to notice the sounds of the students chattering around him as they packed away their books and started to make their way out of the lecture hall.

Someone accidentally knocked against him as they passed and, without looking up, he too stood up and grabbed his bag, taking short, faltering steps towards the exit.

“Hey, Takatsuki, you alright, man?” one of his classmates called, seeing the odd expression on his face, but Shinobu made no reply.

He wandered out into the hall, seemingly oblivious to those around him. Even though it was only midday and he still had his afternoon lectures to attend, Shinobu walked leisurely straight out of the university and across to the train station. When he arrived back at the flat that he shared with Miyagi, he carried out his usual motions automatically, slipping his shoes off and hanging up his jacket.

Picking up his bag, he disappeared into his bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. His fingers trembling slightly, he gripped the zipper and jerked the bag open, letting his books tumble onto the floor. He didn’t care; he left them there, rescuing only the paper he had been staring at earlier and resumed his intent, disbelieving examination of what was written there.

And that’s how Miyagi found him a few hours later when he returned from work; only, after hours of sitting in the same position, staring at the same paper without end, Shinobu had managed to work himself up into a bit of a stew.

As usual, Miyagi had called out his arrival, expecting to hear Shinobu shout back his greeting in return, if not actually bounce out and accost him. He was surprised, therefore, when only silence echoed around the flat in reply. His eyes dropped down quickly and he confirmed that Shinobu’s shoes were back in their spot, so the brat was home.

Knocking on Shinobu’s bedroom door, he then opened it quietly and peeked round. Shinobu was perched stiffly on the end of his bed, frowning and breathing heavily, clutching a bit of paper in his hands with a death grip. Moving into the room, Miyagi asked in a concerned voice if Shinobu was ok.

The boy jumped, broken out of his reverie by the soft rumble of Miyagi’s low voice. He hadn’t even realised his lover had returned, he had been so caught up in his thoughts.

Staring up at Miyagi, an expression of panic and shame spread across Shinobu’s face.

“I-I’m f-f-” he started, trying to reassure Miyagi that he was fine but failing miserably. After all, Miyagi wasn’t necessarily the most sensitive guy, but even he could blatantly tell that Shinobu was upset about something.

Frowning with worry, Miyagi stepped further into the room and reached out a hand for his lover.

“What’s wrong, Shinobu-chin?” he asked.

“Nothing!” Shinobu squeaked.

“Clearly it’s not nothing,” Miyagi insisted.

Shinobu blushed ashamedly and looked away. “I-I can’t tell you. It’s too embarrassing.”

“Shinobu-chin, love, you can tell me anything! You know that, right?”

“You’ll laugh at me…” Shinobu whispered, still refusing to look at Miyagi.

“No, I won’t, I promise. What’s that paper you’ve got there?” Miyagi asked, reaching for the document in Shinobu’s hands, but the boy snatched it out of his reach before he could take it.

“I said it’s nothing, Miyagi! Just leave it, ok?” he snapped, jumping up from the bed and taking several steps backwards, away from Miyagi.

“Shinobu, how am I meant to help you or make you feel better if you won’t tell me what’s wrong?! I love you, you idiot, I want to support you!”

Shinobu’s lip trembled. Miyagi hardly ever told him he loved him. Of course, he did show it in his own way, but Shinobu always felt weak at the knees when Miyagi actually let him know verbally. His resolve weakened. Tears started to spill onto his pale cheeks as he gave in and confessed.

“We had a test in class the other day. The results came back today,” he whispered, gesturing at the paper in his hand. “Miyagi, I-I _failed!_ I _failed!_ ” he whined, now bursting properly into tears.

Miyagi found himself totally shocked. Shinobu had actually failed a test?! But he was so smart, he always did well – he even got a hundred percent on most of his tests! It was bloody annoying, if you asked Miyagi.

Still, he hated to see the boy so upset. Moving over to embrace Shinobu, he hushed and reassured him.

“Don’t worry, love, I’m sure it’s something you can take again. I doubt you’re the only one anyway. You always do so well, you’re entitled to slip up now and again! It’s probably my fault, isn’t it, I distracted you the other day when you wanted to work… I’m sorry, baby.” He pressed kisses to the top of Shinobu’s head, feeling the boy start to calm slightly as he rubbed his back.

After a moment, he casually asked,

“What mark did you get anyway?”

“…Eighty percent,” a muffled voice spoke into his chest.

Miyagi blinked. Then he pushed Shinobu away and looked hard at his face.

“Eighty percent?” he repeated loudly.

The boy sniffled and nodded, his eyes fixed on the floor. Miyagi blew out a puff of air and ran a hand through his hair, rolling his eyes.

“Shinobu… What on earth are you upset for? Eighty percent isn’t a fail. It’s bloody great, you know! Especially at university level, _especially_ at Teito University!”

“Really?” Wide eyes peered up at him, a surprised look on Shinobu’s face. “But… I’ve never had such a low mark before.”

“What do you normally get?”

“Around ninety five percent or more… This is _fifteen_ percent less, Miyagi, I must have done something terribly wrong!” Shinobu burst, getting himself worked up again.

Miyagi smiled affectionately at the boy. He gently cupped Shinobu’s cheeks and smoothed away the tears marring his boy’s beautiful face.

“Shinobu-chin, you have no reason to worry. I’d bet you a thousand yen you still got the highest mark out of your class. Eighty percent is nothing to be ashamed of. When I was studying, I think the highest mark I got was eighty five percent and that was a freaking miracle! Most of the time I was getting marks in the seventies. I think I even got a couple of marks in the late sixties for one module.”

“Sixties?!” Shinobu stared at Miyagi condescendingly, then burst out laughing. “How the hell did you manage that? God, Miyagi, I thought you were supposed to be smart! How did you ever manage to get a job as a literature professor if you were only getting marks in the sixties and seventies as an _undergrad_?!” he smirked.

Miyagi glared at him and dropped his hands. Raising an eyebrow at his little snob of a lover, he retorted,

“Ah, Shinobu-chin. Sorry, but I lied. I just wanted to make you feel better. Of course I never got a mark as low as that. In fact, the lowest mark I ever got on a paper was eighty six percent. So there, beat you!” he sang in Shinobu’s face and stuck out his tongue. Then, with a broad grin at Shinobu’s sudden expression of horror, he sauntered out of the room, whistling a merry tune.


	6. Hiroki

Hiroki smirked as he placed his last letters onto the scrabble board.

“Let’s just add up the final scores, shall we?” he suggested, raising an eyebrow at Nowaki and allowing a small, self-satisfied smile to brighten his face.

Nowaki said nothing. He merely leaned back on his hands and smiled indulgently at his know-it-all partner. Hiroki always won. Nowaki expected nothing less, and besides, he wasn’t bothered about losing. It was worth it to see his lover happy. No matter how hard he tried to keep his cool, Hiroki could never fully stop the radiant glow that would flush his cheeks whenever he won a word game.

“Nowaki, you scored two hundred and fifty three. I’m sorry, but it looks like I’ve won, again! I scored three hundred and twenty four.”

“Well done, Hiro-san!” Nowaki congratulated him heartily.

“Yeah, well, you know… It’s not your fault, Nowaki, I _am_ a literature professor… It would be pretty poor if I didn’t win more often than not,” Hiroki tried to reassure Nowaki magnanimously, though not quite managing to hide his boastfulness.

Nowaki grinned suddenly. “I don’t mind losing, Hiro-san. After all, it means that I always get a consolation price to cheer me up.”

And with that, he pounced on the unsuspecting uke, a devilish leer on his face.

* * *

The following day was Monday, and Hiroki carefully dragged his thoroughly abused rear into his office and tentatively settled into his chair.

“Rough weekend, eh?” Professor Miyagi winked, noticing his subordinate’s fragile state.

“Could say that…” Hiroki mumbled.

“What did you do to deserve that?”

“Beat him at scrabble again.”

“Again?”

“Of course! I _always_ win,” Hiroki looked up indignantly. “Even against the _great_ Usami Akihiko, I’ve never lost a game! I do try to take it easy on Nowaki, he’s obviously very intelligent but he hasn’t studied literature the way I have… But it’s not fair on either of us if I were to throw the game just so he has a greater chance of winning.”

Miyagi chuckled at Hiroki’s overwhelming pride. Ah, the temptation to squash it was just too great.

“Say, Hiroki, how about you give me a game? I’ve been schooled in literature longer than you, I betcha I can be the one to finally beat you!”

Hiroki stared at the bold man in front of him. True, behind that silly, childish exterior, Miyagi did possess a keen intellect, but surely he was still no match for Hiroki, the Grand Master? Sneering slightly, confident of the man’s impending defeat, he quickly accepted the challenge.

“But how about we make it more interesting?” he dared.

“Hmm? In what way?” Miyagi enquired, his mouth perking up at the corners.

“You said you bet you can beat me – let’s make a bet then. If I win, you will… Treat me respectfully and professionally with no teasing or jibes, you’ll turn up on time, do your own work, and not let that brat burst in here… Oh, and you’ll take over my last lecture every Friday so I can leave early. All that, for an entire month. I think that’s fair, after all I’ve done for you and all I have to put up with on a daily basis.”

Miyagi’s eyes narrowed as he considered Hiroki’s demands.

“Tough, Kamijou, very tough… But fine. On the condition that if _I_ win, you will wear the costume of my choice next Monday on the university’s annual fancy dress for charity day. That’s not too bad, is it – it’s just one day, whereas you’ve demanded a month of service from me!”

Hiroki’s face whitened and he almost balked at the thought of having to wear fancy dress at work. But he really had never lost a game before… And the smarmy, self-confident expression on Miyagi’s face was goading him into rising to the challenge. If he lost and he had to wear whatever ridiculous costume Miyagi came up with, his pride would suffer a terrible blow… But if he gave in now, Miyagi would tease him about it forever. And he was sure he could win.

Steeling himself, he met Miyagi’s sparkling eyes with his fierce ones and nodded.

“Fine. Tomorrow lunch time, make sure your brat’s not around, and we’ll get it on.”

As he was speaking, the door crashed open and a furious blond caught the end of his sentence. He pounced into the room, hackles raised and claws ready to strike...

* * *

The atmosphere in the Literature department’s office was tense. Two men, one tall and dark, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, the other more petite with crease marks on his forehead where he bore a permanent frown, were staring intently at a board spread out on the table before them. The board was already covered in little plastic, lettered squares.

For the sake of their reputations, each had strived to come up with the hardest or most unusual words they could think of. Avuncular crossed with ukulele, forsooth with opulent, ochre with convivial. Now that they were nearly the end, however, there was little space for long or flowery words, and they were reduced to fitting their remaining pieces anywhere they could just so that they didn’t lose points from the pieces they couldn’t get rid of.

“Triple word score for ‘in’!” Miyagi crowed excitedly.

Hiroki pursed his lips and jotted down the score. He was seriously worried. The scores were about neck and neck, and he only had difficult letters left. Where could he put a bloody ‘x’?! And if Miyagi kept squeezing in triple word scores, Hiroki might actually lose!!

His palms started to sweat.

Slotting in a spare ‘o’, he managed to turn Miyagi’s ‘go’ into ‘goo’ – but there were no special scores for that and he still had the blasted ‘x’!

Three turns later, and the additions to the board of the words ‘zip’, ‘at’ and ‘ox’, Hiroki had finally used up all his letters, even the difficult ‘x’ and ‘z’ – but adding up the scores, he discovered that he had disastrously finished two points below Miyagi!

He couldn’t believe it! Hiroki’s mouth hung open in shock and he was so stunned he didn’t even notice that Miyagi was cackling and jiggling in his chair, crooning a loud victory song.

He had lost. He had lost! Hiroki NEVER lost!! Especially not to a giant, annoying nitwit like Miyagi!

He looked up with trepidation. He really hadn’t believed that Miyagi would win. And he’d agreed to dress up in fancy dress… What the hell was Miyagi going to make him wear? And he’d have to go around the university, his place of work, he’d have to _face_ _his students_ in anything Miyagi picked out for him…

He groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands.

“Aw, don’t worry, my sweet honey!! I know how sensitive you are… If you really want, I’ll come in the same fancy dress – I have the perfect thing in mind!”

Hiroki peeked out from between his fingers and winced.

* * *

Next Monday rolled around and Hiroki reluctantly dragged himself into work. Miyagi had arrived early as he was so excited about his prize for winning the game of scrabble.

He had a large suit bag spread over the couch in their office. As soon as Hiroki came in, Miyagi darted forward and locked the door behind him. He ushered Hiroki forward and urged him to strip out of his shirt and trousers while he removed the costume from its bag.

Closing his eyes in despair, Hiroki’s trembling fingers tugged at his tie and started to undo the buttons on his shirt. He had desperately hoped that Miyagi would have forgotten their little deal over the weekend, though he hadn’t really expected to have such luck.

His luck really had completely run out, he discovered when he opened his eyes. Miyagi had taken out a full kimono, complete with undershirt, obi, the works.

“What the hell?!” Hiroki spluttered, eying the pink and orange floral material.

“Well, we work in the literature department, Kamijou. I thought it would be good for you to dress suitably in character, so I’ve brought a costume to dress you as Murasaki Shikibu.”

“… She was a woman!” Hiroki burst, glaring at his superior. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a man!”

Miyagi shrugged. “I don’t see how that matters. You’ll be representing one of Japan’s greatest literary writers. Besides, fancy dress is meant to be a bit unusual. Look, I’ve brought you a nice, long, black wig and shoes too, and we’ve just got time before lectures begin to do your makeup. After all, Hiroki, you’ll need to comport yourself properly as a refined, courtly lady!”

The office suddenly shook with the force of Hiroki’s rage as it burst forth from his mouth.

Then he remembered something.

“But where’s your costume? You said you’d dress the same as me, why aren’t you changed?!”

“Oh, Hiroki,” Miyagi laughed, “you don’t really think I’m going to wander about these hallowed halls in _drag_ , did you?! No, in fact, I’m not dressing up at all today. Didn’t you know that there’s a get out clause – if you donate a certain amount to the charity, you don’t have to wear fancy dress at all!”

Half an hour later, the students stopped in shock as two spectacular sights emerged from the Literature department’s office into the corridor: one was a beautiful, though rather cross-looking, woman in a long, trailing kimono; the other was Professor Miyagi sporting an unpleasant, painful-looking, large black bruise across his cheek and holding a bloodied tissue to his nose.


End file.
